You walk into the room and it is like stepping into the grand library. Wall to wall and floor to ceiling is taken up by leather bound loaded bookshelves. All of the tomes are in varying states of decay and none of which are new.

The term is archaic, calling upon the ancient language of the magi, and those versed in the eldritch arts. In the more vulgar argot, terms such as scrying room and equally mundane names are bandied about. The fact that such limited terms are used to describe the proper mystic's psychomanteum demonstrates how little they actually know about what occurs within.

This dusty, delapidated building appears to have been abandoned for some time. Within it is a plethora of ancient tomes and ancient knowledge, however rumours of a deadly curse keep curious scholars at bay.

Mathus looked up. He didn't recognize the man ordering, but he seemed the type: muscles beneath a layer of fat, a snarling expression with most of his teeth missing, fists like summer hams. "You want it in a bottle?"

"From the tap."

Mathus nodded. "This way," he said, stepping from behind the bar and into the back room, the "customer" following.

Tucked back in the corner of Kiskedee square, off of Aasvogel, is the Hornless Goat. The tavern is as non-descript and plain as any business can be and still maintain itself in passable fashion. No one notices the patrons of that small overlooked place.

Info

In this culture it is not wise to talk too much good things about anything - especially children,lest some evil spirit steals it. So it is customary to say it is ugly and weak and will surely not survive. Also:
"The man who boasts of his young woman is a fool,
The man who boasts of his wares will get rich."